Fissures on the Ice
by BellatrixLestrangey
Summary: Basically my take on how each of the Trix's childhoods and how they became the power hungry people they are today. It's a story mostly about how child abuse, bullying, and following the wrong crowd can leave such nasty scars.
1. Fissures on The Ice

His hand found its way to her face, the blow stinging, sure to show in black and blue the next day.

"Useless. Helpless. Troublesome child." The man snarled as he looked down at his daughter trembling in the corner. Her head buried in her hands—in an ineffective attempt to child herself from the man's hard fists. Of course when he couldn't strike her face he settled for a swift kick to her ribs cage. A kick just hard enough to lay her face down on the floor. She wouldn't cry this time.

Another kick, this time to the head. "Weak, pathetic, waste of space." He bellowed words slurred by his clear intoxication. Her father kicked her again, she was used to him beating her in his drunken rage. It happened near daily. She always assumed it was his way of coping with the death of his wife two years prior, when the girl herself was only six. "Come on! Defend yourself." He hollered. He lifted the girl off the ground by the collar of her teal t-shirt. Another punch to the face. "Too weak to fight back. You'll always be helpless. You'll never be anything more than the powerless little girl you are now." He paused and resumed only to repeat himself "Never be nothing more than…than uuuusless." By the end his voice was a muffled slur. Too drunk to even get the words out right. "Damn useless piece of…" He trailed of giving the child a violent shake. A shake that bought her surprised tears forth as she looked into her father's eyes. His face twisted into a scowl more demonic than human. Angry wrinkles creasing the man's brow and lining his forehead. He threw her to the ground, a sickly thud signaled her head meeting the hardwood floor. She cried out, as small and helpless sound. He rested his foot on her stomach and glared down at her. "_This _is and will always be your place…conquered, defeated, and _powerless_."She'd prove him wrong one day…

One day…

Her feet pounded on the pavement a long six years (not unfilled with abuse and suffering) later, frigid blood—still fresh and leaking from the gash on her forehead into her eyes and down her pale cheek. She had no clue where she'd go, but she'd rather lead a street rat's life out there in the piercing cold, than live another day with the demon she once called "daddy." When she felt that she was at a safe distance from what was once her home, the young woman collapsed onto the snowy ground panting quite heavily. The chill edging up her skin was strangely euphoric as it crept its way over and into her body. It felt somehow very right, righter than anything had ever been. She felt almost connected to the frost numbing her fingers from the very tip down. She let out a soft sigh of pleasure and pressed her cheek deeper into the snow. Things would change today, she didn't know how, but she knew they would. Only three moons later a woman with a noticeably pointed nose, wearing robes of the deepest purple took her by the hand with promises of a place to stay and magic to learn. A place that offered lessons that would surely insure she'd never feel defenseless again. She would master the spells (of the darkest nature). She'd perfect them. She'd use them to conquer. She owed it to herself. Looking up at the woman named Griffin, she got to her feet and followed her into a portal that had just opened.

Seven years had been good to the woman as she loomed over the freshman, a rush of power and adrenalin pushing her on. Years of magic practice—one on one with the head mistress and when she was old enough, in a classroom—deserved to be shown off and bragged about. She was stronger than any other student in the school, she knew it…she thrived on it. A large crowd of witches had gathered around, pressuring her onward. They always seemed to enjoy the shows she put on. She nudged Mirta with the toe of her boot. The slight whimper given took her back to a time she never wished to recall, she almost changed her mind about provoking the victim any further. But better than anyone else crowded in that hallway, she knew it was victimize or be victimized. And she'd be the victim no more. "You were wrong father" she whispered bitterly to herself. "I know where the flame is. I'll have it and be more powerful than I am even now." With that she, continued pushing the younger witch around as if her father could see and eat his words.

Never again would Icy let herself be conquered.

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**AN: So I finally got around to typing a Winx fic, I've been meaning to do so since like last year. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Loser

**By request on another site I decided to work on one shots for Darcy and Stormy too. So here's Darcy's part.**

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Another piece of gum found its way into the child's hair. She assumed it was Meredith's doing. The girl seemed to take a conserving pleasure in tormenting her. 'Nerd', 'four eyes', and 'ugly' were at the top of her 'most-used-words' list. Sunday nights were usually spent begging her mom not to make her go to school, only to have her mom remind her that "an education is important" and that "Meredith was only being so unkind because she is afraid of being treated unkindly herself." Monday mornings were spent trying to convince herself that her mom was right—that Meredith just felt down on herself. It never made the pain any less. She walked to the bus stop…alone. And she found a seat on the bus…isolated. She tried to keep to the front with the less wild crowd, but wads of crumpled paper and chunks of eraser still made their way to their front, colliding with her head. The bus driver did little to stop the tormenters. "Her pay check wasn't high enough for her to take up babysitting a group of rambunctious children." She got off the bus, a sense of dread perking up at the sight of Meredith waiting for her just outside.

"Top of the morning freak show." Meredith's voice was nauseatingly nasaly even for an elementary schooler. She took it upon herself to swipe the girl's eyewear. "Might wanna get buy less dumb looking glasses , four eyes!" She remarked giving the other girl a weak and childish shove. "Little Joshy is a little short on cash." She cooed and stepped aside for a short chubby boy with an aggressive look in his squinted eyes. The duck lips forever stained on his face and his puffy cheeks had the girl wondering why Meredith didn't pester him instead of her. He lumbered on over to her.

"Ya got something for me?" Joshy held out a chubby and expecting hand.

"No!" the girl winced as she slid to her knees, her hand tightly clutching the bag containing boht her books and her lunch money.

"Fork it over geek! I'm hungry." Joshy demanded.

"You're always hungry." She dared to mumble. This earned her a punch to the arm.

"Whad'd you just say dorkwad?" Joshy grumbled. He didn't give her time to answer before he snatched up her lunch money and made his way into the building.

"What an ugly loser." Meredith smirked. She gave the crowd time to laugh. How Darcy longed to be in that position; Meredith's position.

High school hadn't done much to help her accomplish this. If anything things had worsened. By this time Meredith had prettied herself up even more and puberty generously added to her chest making her popularity with the males of the school spike thrice as high as it was back in the 3rd grade. Nature had done pretty much the opposite to Darcy, who still thought herself hard on the eyes. The only thing she really had were her smarts. For once that was good enough. They were what skipped her from the Hell that was 3 more years of high school to a fresh start with new faces in college. Cloud Tower was surely the place that would help her achieve her revenge…or at least gain her a better, more respectable reputation than 'four eyes.'

As it may have turned out college hadn't done her much good either. Despite being a senior, her younger age earned her the freshman treatment in these halls. Shed of her big, bug eyed glasses apparently she was still a nerd. Perhaps it was time to put down the books? Whilst Meredith was no longer a problem, she had found a new tormenter—this one maybe even worst that the first; the woman with long silver hair. She honestly didn't know if the new predator was better or worse. However, she did know that she'd give anything to attain such a position of power. It was on another ever-dreaded Monday morning that she came upon a particular scene; Mirta, her good friend…her only friend (Lucy wasn't too keen on sharing), lying on the ground being nudged by the boot of the woman with the icy hair. A crowd, closely resembling the one form her childhood gathered around, and this time she was in it rather than on the figurative stage. Despite it all, despite Mirta's kindness, something deep inside her bought forward the words "Show that weak pixie what's up!" Her words loudest in that crowd. This attained the other witch's attention.

"Care to do the honers." Mirta's tormenter asked monotonously. Hands shaking with anticipation Darcy looked down on the freshman…down on her friend, a mess of insults to throw spinning in her head waiting to roll off her tongue.

She knew it all along; her mother was right. Meredith only bullied her for fear of being bullied herself. Darcy knew because she was going to do the same. Damn. Thing.


	3. Hazy Showers

**This chapter has more mature and adult content. Just a heads up.**

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Stormy's brother meant everything to her. He was her role model; he was the one who inspired her most. She looked up to the boy and followed him every which way. At first glance this was just the most precious thing, but the people of the town knew better. The boy was an awful role model, horrendous in fact. He roamed the streets at night, slinging guns, and waving knives in people's faces. And if the child wanted to learn how to become addicted to cigarettes…well her brother was an expert. He was a very heavy smoker and a habitual liar. He rode with the Thorn Boys, a notoriously violent street gang known for holding the crown in the drug dealing industry. But how was such a young girl to understand any of that? With parents killed at the spite of a rival gang, he was all the girl had left. She watched him pull the trigger. A muscular man of about 6 feet to the pavement. "And then ya just take what he's' got 'n run like Hell." The boy instructed her. She was his apprentice. Whenever she found the ability to do so, surely she would carry on her brother's legacy if the time came. He reached into the man's pocket (not forgetting to take a drag of the his cigarette) and dug out a wad of cash. "This." He waved the money about "is what keeps us off the street. What makes the world spin. We need to keep it rollin' in." He explained as the two sprinted off. "This, is how we make a livin'! This is how we'll rule the realms!"

"But you killed him." The little girl pointed out, a small crack forming in her trust.

"'S okay, no one's gonna miss 'im." Her brother assured her. "Ya do what ya need ta do ta get by. And screw any sorry soul who gets in the way." The boy laughed as he threw his hands in the air in some sort of grand gesture. "This is how the Thorn Boys get rich."

She nodded.

A great number of years later the same girl found herself outside in the pouring rain about to witness her role model, her beloved brother in the fight of his life. He told her to keep to the shadows of the alley and take a drag of the cigarette as it would ease the anxiety. She did as instructed only to cough, gag, and toss the cigarette to the ground. How her brother could stand those things was beyond her. A week's worth of time was put into planning the all about brawl between the Thorn Boys and the Hell Hounds and her brother hopped it would pay off. Knives, guns, bats, fists alone, anything went in this street war. She stayed hidden just watching as her idol drove his knife into the chest of a younger man. She wanted to be just like him—so cool, so tough…so brave. It happened in a flash. A round of bullets fired off; ricocheting every which way. Moments later erupted the victorious woops and hollers from the Hell Hounds. After looting what they wished the Hell Hounds cleared and Stormy emerged. She stumbled over the bodies. Blood mixed with rain water pooled around her brother. "It's your turn now." He whispered. "You know what to…" a clap of thunder silenced his dying words.

She would do it, she'd live up to his heavy expectations.

The woman found herself outside Cloud Tower. Not sure at all how she got there or how this would ever impress her brother. She found herself in a fairly dark hallway, a crowd just parting ways. Only two remained; a tall, slim woman with blue-white hair and cold, stern eyes and a shorter woman with hair of a much darker hue. The taller looked in her direction. "I've heard much about your brother and his…affairs." She spoke. "How would you like to carry on his name?"

Stormy would finally lead the life she had longed for.


End file.
